


la vie en rose

by dearly__beloved



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Cottagecore, Established Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Implied Demisexuality, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, Mild Sexual Content, No Plot/Plotless, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life, day 6: devotion, emotional support goats and ducks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28445832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearly__beloved/pseuds/dearly__beloved
Summary: He falls in love with Donghyuck one autumn morning, underneath the vibrant orange maple trees of their undergraduate university, realizing his heart always manages to flutter whenever Donghyuck wanted to pluck little daisies from the grass, wishing that the ever-creeping layer of frost melt and give way for Donghyuck’s happiness.Or Mark and Donghyuck being soft goat farmer boyfriends.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	la vie en rose

**Author's Note:**

> I just think goats are neat and wrote this (you may have seen me talking about this fic for a while now on Twitter and now it’s finally here ^^)
> 
> also i moved this fic here b/c i want people here to find my new ao3 ^^

_Spring_.

Mark’s favorite season. 

At first, Mark doesn’t find spring anything special, just bright blue skies with the occasional white cloud passing by, threatening to conceal the sun. The wind’s playful consciousness sometimes decides to play around with the farmer, blowing away the wide straw brim hat on his matted hair and he ends up buying more straw hats only for them to eventually fly away too. 

Summer nights which used to be Mark’s favorite, he picks up strawberries and places them in the old plastic green crate that now serves as a makeshift nesting box for the chickens Donghyuck raises.

Where the autumn moon is made to wait for winter, more spectacular and more drastic changes in color occur — bright oranges slowly turning into a soft brown that easily disintegrates underneath their worn-out work boots as they walk around the farm. 

Winter is splendid, with snowflakes coming down and layering the brown earth with a soft white blanket. Everything smells like pumpkin spice laced with a speck of cinnamon, chocolate cookies beginning to be left behind with old dreams of Santa Claus.

But with time, Mark comes to appreciate spring’s ever-changing beauty — almost as golden as the man he lives with, bright amber eyes gently kissed by waves of shimmering sunlight.

Everything becomes more colorful, more vibrant, more lovely during spring. Pinks and blues start returning after being silenced by winter, but they are still too shy to blend and transition into the bright violets conflated with summer.

It begins dancing again, whenever flowers begin blooming, painting everything in a clear green misty cast, mockingbirds flying and singing the songs that manage to crawl up from the crevices of their small beating hearts.

The farmer calls spring the season painted with love because that was the time he realized he fell in love with Donghyuck.

He falls in love with Donghyuck one autumn morning, underneath the vibrant orange maple trees of their undergraduate university, realizing his heart always manages to flutter whenever Donghyuck wanted to pluck little daisies from the grass, wishing that the ever-creeping layer of frost melt and give way for Donghyuck’s happiness.

Spring is the second season of love because that’s when Donghyuck’s smile is the brightest, beginning to claw its way out of the frozen earth like the first daffodil that finally grows the courage to bloom again, no longer yielding to the blues of winter. Mark always finds himself falling in love all over again, sapphire blue butterflies landing on his face and fluttering whenever Donghyuck is around — reminding him that his heart is wholeheartedly devoted to the man spun in gold by the gods and goddesses. 

Even Aphrodite the goddess of love and beauty is envious of how much sunlight pours upon Donghyuck, painting and cherishing his body with copper hues, all eyes landing on him wherever he goes. 

But unlike Aphrodite, Donghyuck is unaffected by all of the gazes that land on him. 

Their love for his sun cast beauty remains unrequited, like the sunlight that manages to slither its way through the tree branches because it wants to kiss the small lilies that grow beneath.

And Donghyuck’s heart never wavers. 

He always reaffirms to Mark that he only has eyes for him, from the moment they sat next to each other in a crowded lecture hall; the second and third year trying to crash the same geography elective course so they could graduate on time.

Both of them fail to receive an add code, opting to use those free hours to mess around in the campus sunflower fields, a little white flower always finding its way tucked behind Mark’s ear after sex.

_Mark’s never been a person who liked sex. He’s always found sex uncomfortable, strange even. Even after coming back from the high of an orgasm, Mark’s not quite sure if this is what he wants from being in a relationship._

_Yes, he’s 21 and has had a couple of boyfriends here and there, but he’s never felt loved or safe with them. Mark has always felt like he was in a rush to fall in love and declare eternal devotion without receiving much in return._

_But Mark soon finds his answer in Donghyuck, who flutters his eyes open and smiles at him like the first snow falling on his shoulders, almost as warm as the spring rain. A smile so beautiful, Mark is compelled to reach out and trace every mole he finds on Donghyuck’s cheek — a small constellation of stars that have found themselves stranded on this undeserving earth._

_Twenty minutes after complaining about not getting an add code for the geography course they needed to graduate, Mark finds himself gasping underneath Donghyuck._

_Donghyuck is greedy, Mark discovers as he presses marks all over his thighs and he feels them bruising purple like the little farewell to spring flowers that bloom underneath him. Like the sun wanting everyone to gravitate towards it, Donghyuck demands all of Mark to be his; just like all of the little planets in constant orbit._

_Mark is pulled in by gravity, sprawling himself for Donghyuck and letting him fuck him to tears against the soft bed of grass beneath them, not caring whether or not someone could walk into the sunflower field and see Mark come undone underneath Donghyuck’s grasp. You’re beautiful, Mark can hear Donghyuck whisper in his ear as he finally comes._

_“Did it hurt?” Donghyuck asks, voice wavering for the very first time since the moment they met, smile disappearing. His smile drifts like the fallen leaves that come with autumn finally forced to let go of the branch they clutched on during spring and summer._

_Mark immediately shakes his head no and presses a gentle kiss on Donghyuck’s cupid shaped lips, once again finding himself addicted to Donghyuck’s honeyed taste._

_“It wasn’t perfect,” he quietly admits. “But I wouldn’t mind coming back with you even if all you wanted to do was make flower crowns all evening long.”_

_Donghyuck smile returns and spring crawls back after hibernating for so long._

_It feels good to call Donghyuck his boyfriend now, Mark thinks as he sleeps on Donghyuck’s chest._

_There is no grand declaration of love that blooms underneath the purple painted sky that illuminates over the ochre yellow sunflower plants. But the little kiss that Donghyuck presses on Mark’s forehead after placing the small white flower behind his ear tells him all he needs to know._

Mark can feel the grass underneath him kiss his bare feet as he moves across the field, each step full of uncertainty; he doesn’t want to step on any of the poppies Donghyuck planted the year before, his boyfriend of seven years claiming that he spent too many hours preparing the field for them just to be squandered by someone carelessly stepping on them.

It’s days like this, where the sky is lightly tinted with pink and the clouds begin dissipating to make way for the midday sun, Mark thinks that Donghyuck is Persephone reincarnated — or at the very least one of her mortal incarnations.

Donghyuck is an ethereal presence in Mark’s eyes; there is something so magical about Donghyuck’s existence that Mark can’t help but notice how his skin was bathed in gold and his eyes always shimmered copper. Always bright and gleaming with a warmness that threatens autumn and winter away from the earth.

A golden touch that extends to every living thing that Donghyuck touches. 

The once barren lands that bore no fruit when Mark was left with only a rundown barn-house and a couple of old livestock began remembering the color green once again the moment Donghyuck decided to move into the farm with Mark.

Donghyuck is like the sun and the earth dances around him, the spring always lasting longer than it should, pushing the orange and purple summer away in favor of soft pinks and greens.

_“It should be easy,” Donghyuck coaxes, pressing his lips against Mark’s ear, causing the latter to flush vermillion red for a brief second._

_Mark creates some distance between them, fearing the possibility of fooling around instead of discussing the inheritance Mark’s uncle left him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that they’d sleep together to avoid talking about a missed bill, but they’ve grown together, confronting adulthood together. They shouldn’t resort to sex to solve their problems anymore._

_“I’ve helped my grandmother tend to her strawberry farm whenever I went back to Jeju for the summer holidays and it didn’t seem so bad,” he reasons, eyes fluttering open again to meet Mark’s gaze. Donghyuck’s eyes gleam and a familiar fondness blooms. It’s a loving feeling that has become reserved for Mark and Mark only._

_“It’s not the same,” Mark responds, making the distance between them grow even more. Mark rarely lets Donghyuck bathe him in physical affection, and perhaps now was not the time to challenge his boundaries — even if Donghyuck never had the malicious intent to._

_Cross Donghyuck’s heart and all of the little succulents he spent years cultivating on the ledge of their shared apartment bay window, that the sun never stops glistening in the yellow hue that reminds them both of love and comfort._

_Fortunately, the windowpane is orange and not the red that Mark has come to fear._

_For red means an ending he never wanted._

_“It’s not the same,” Mark softly repeats, eyes looking down. “You only had to help your grandmother during your summer holidays and she only had you pluck and eat all the strawberries you want. Donghyuck this isn’t a Studio Ghibli movie escapade where little faeries come out and frolic amongst us._

_“I wouldn’t want your hands to become ruined with callouses for me. I know how much your hands mean to you and how much more playing the piano does.”_

_Instead of being met with a rebuttal, Mark’s visage is met with Donghyuck wrinkling his nose; he’s reminded of a little rabbit, too stubborn to hibernate once winter decided to lull all of the autumn mornings back to sleep._

_“It’d only ever be hard because of capitalism trying to take over the forest and farm you inherited from your uncle,” Donghyuck lightly chuckles, pressing the palms of his hands on each one of Mark’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t play piano as well if any of my hands got injured if it meant I could spend more time with you.”_

_“Didn’t you know that each songbird sings for the lonely heart it spotted up from the powerlines it’s perched on. They always sing for that person, like I always sing for you.”_

It’s a sweet reverie broken by Mei taking a bite out of his shirt, the slip of the stripped blue cotton blouse coming out of his overalls deemed unclaimed territory to conquer and claim as hers.

Her big hazel eyes stare back at him, glistening with innocence and all Mark can let out in response is an exhausted sigh, the tension welling up in his heart long gone. 

He wishes that the goat would stop, but if he ever dares to send one crude word in Mei’s direction, Mark knows that he’d never hear the end of it from Donghyuck.

Between the two, Mark knows that Donghyuck would choose Mei over him, his little girl, the honeyed nickname that Donghyuck sings every morning they come out and feed their livestock.

The first kid borne during the reconstruction of the farmhouse Mark’s uncle left him, found in shambles, wood rotting, and few chickens left to make any decent living selling eggs on the side of the street.

Mei was there being carried by Donghyuck as he and Mark began painting over the old wooden boards with a bright blue, ignoring any of their neighbor’s requests to keep the house the same faded red everyone was already accustomed to.

And Mei was there when Donghyuck ran towards Mark with the bank statement that after nine years of cultivating strawberries and other fruits and raising and selling livestock, they finally paid off what was left of their mortgage. 

_“Don’t you think she’s a little possessive?” Mark questions as Donghyuck holds the little white kid with patches of black all over, the little butt one in the shape of a small heart._

_The kid’s big hazel eyes keep daring him to come closer as if to challenge him to a battle they both know Mark will lose._

_Because Mark will always lose to Mei._

_“She’s just young that’s all,” Donghyuck murmurs as he hands Mark the little kid. “See? She likes you.”_

_Little Mei immediately falls asleep in Mark’s arms, finding her way into his heart as well._

_Donghyuck claims the picture of Mark, Mei, and their little kitten sleeping together on their strawberry couch is his most prized possession._

Mei may be a little thorn in amongst all of the roses bushes he planted, but she is a cute little thorn Mark grows to appreciate each day she makes Donghyuck smile with her presence.

Across the strawberry field is Donghyuck, feeding all of the baby ducks that managed to make the old pond their home, their soft yellow tuft peeking outside the water’s surface.

Like Mark, Donghyuck also wears a large straw hat, but underneath it, golden curls manage to dangle just above his eyes, refusing to be contained anymore.

His white blouse is too big and hangs over his shoulder, exposing an expanse of sun-kissed skin and carefully placed moles that only make Mark think that his boyfriend of so many years is indeed a modern incarnation of Persephone, and he perhaps, Hades.

Not because he doesn’t love Donghyuck and worshipped him whenever they had sex, chants always filled with desperation and longing even though Mark knows he has Donghyuck’s everlasting devotion in the palm of his hands, but because he is undeserving of such beauty.

Not only does the loose shirt expose his golden skin, but the trail of carefully placed moles — a constellation Mark loves peppering butterfly kisses once they finished work for the day, watching _My Neighbor Totoro_ as their cat managed to find its way on their strawberry couch, careful not to have its claws accidentally tear any of the red velvet fabric.

Moments could pass, but Mark can always find something else to love about Donghyuck.

 _His Donghyuck_.

“Why aren’t you helping me feed the ducklings?” Donghyuck softly beams as motions Mark to come over. “They are as much yours as they are mine.”

“Fine,” Mark says, but there’s not one trace of annoyance in his tone. He rushes over, not wanting to lose another second that he could be spending with Donghyuck.

He squats down to Donghyuck’s level and takes a handful of the feed, waiting for the little yellow ducks to come and eat from his hand. 

Interest sparks in the little ducklings’ eyes and they begin nibbling at his hand — but their bills are so small and so underdeveloped they do nothing but tease small bites.

Little ducklings they haven’t named yet. 

Donghyuck always teases him and says they can just call them whatever Studio Ghibli character that came to mind that day, but Mark insists that they have to be more creative.

Names are such a precious thing after all, and he knows that each duckling would like to have a name they’d treasure for years to come.

Like the little water lilies that always found their way back home when spring enchanted them back into existence, the ducklings would use their names like a crimson red ribbon that leads them back to their little pond — the place that promised to keep them safe forever and always.

“Are you thinking about their names again?” Donghyuck asks his reflection in the water only growing stronger despite the floating lily pads and rose leaves threatening to distort his likeness.

“No.” Mark blushes and the apple of his cheeks becomes pink. He continues to pour all of his focus on the little ducklings scrambling around them trying to eat each little of grain they can in a failed attempt to avoid his boyfriend’s question.

“If you say so,” Donghyuck sings songs and he lays his head on Mark’s shoulder, his golden ringlets tickling the latter’s neck.

Silence blooms — but it’s not the dreadful silence people have come to conflate with arguments or intolerance.

It’s a silence that is full of warmth. 

A warmth that Mark has become so familiar with throughout the years, yet it never manages to lose its dazzling ethereality.

Little bluebirds take the opportunity to let the wind carry their heartful melodies, and Mark can almost hear the poppies blossoming in their noble endeavor to only share their beauty with those present.

Just Mark and Donghyuck.

The water reflects the image of two farmers kissing each other, not caring that the ducklings have run off elsewhere chasing after the little goat’s shadow.

There’s always time to indulge in the responsibilities of adulthood later.

So Mark lets himself orbit around his own personal sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos if you liked this ♡♡♡
> 
> Find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_ourloveispink)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/hoelistic98)


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